


Tomcat

by phenomanon



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:01:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21809251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phenomanon/pseuds/phenomanon
Summary: Grissom asks Nick to take Greg to a convention. PWP-ish vibes but no actual lemon.
Relationships: Greg Sanders & Nick Stokes, Greg Sanders/Nick Stokes
Comments: 7
Kudos: 32





	Tomcat

"You gotta be kiddin' me."

Grissom's stonewall posture didn't budge.

"For as long as we've worked together Nicky, have you ever known me as someone who... _kids_?"

Nick pursed his lips. He knew better than to try and argue with his boss.

"No."

"Good. Oh and take Greg with you."

But this was where he had to draw the line. Nick was in the middle of processing a tough case, so the last thing he wanted to do was attend a convention as a distraction. Especially one where he had to babysit the lab's latest CSI wannabe.

"What?"

"You're training him, aren't you Nick? I think this could be a good experience for him."

"Why can't Warrick take him? Or Sara?"

After straightening the pair of glasses resting on his nose, Grissom gave Nick a stern look.

"Because Warrick is in and out of court all week and I sent Sara to the last convention. If I recall, a certain somebody expressed his opinions on not being able to attend the last convention."

The warmth returned to Nick's face. CSI's gossip mill had finally come full circle, with even Grissom hearing the chatter from his echo chamber.

"You got it boss."

———

"Pack your bags Greg."

"Huh?"

The CSI trainee looked up from his data collection with great concern. He knew he wasn't pulling his weight like most other CSIs at his level, with Ecklie always pushing for him to return back to the lab. Had his greatest fears finally come true?

Nick sensed this and quickly quelled the tension.

"It's just a saying. You and I are going to the forensics convention my friend."

Greg shut his eyes immediately, letting out the anxious breath he had been holding in. Nick suddenly felt bad for the young CSI.

"Why?"

"Great reference for your training. And uh, Grissom thought you'd be a good person to send."

He nodded at Nick, trying to hide his joy at being acknowledged by Grissom.

"When do we leave?"

"It's here in town, Thursday and Friday. So we'll head there tomorrow around 6am since the first seminar starts at 7am."

"6am?!"

"Yes, Greg. Grissom's letting us finish up what we have today and sending us home so we can make it tomorrow. Sound good?"

"Y-yeah."

Greg knew he had no say in this. Not that he didn't enjoy conventions, he just didn't want to miss any more training time.

"Good. Um, we can meet up there or I could pick you up?"

The color in Greg's face immediately washed out, leaving him looking like the ghost of Christmas past. He didn't know why he was so nervous to accept a ride from his longtime friend and coworker, but he was. He and Nick had hung out a few times over the years, but had never gotten too close to one another. 

"Sure, that'd be great."

"Still live at the same place?"

"Yep. Need the address?"

"Nah, I think I remember. Left at the light after Henderson...next to that seafood place."

"Bob's Ragin' Cajun."

Nick smirked at the name.

"Right."

"Hey that place is pretty good! I know the name's profound, but wait 'til you try their spiced lobster rolls."

Nick wasn't sure he wanted to know what a lobster roll was. He was a stickler for tradition, which meant lobsters probably should't be rolling.

"Maybe next time, G. All right, I'm gonna finish up in the lab so I'll see you tomorrow bright and early?"

"Sure."

"Do you want me to give you a call in the morning?"

Greg didn't know if he should be offended that the older man didn't trust him to wake up on time, or blessed that he would be receiving a wake up call from the Greek God himself. He also didn't want to obsess over vernacular, but he thought it was peculiar that Nick had said 'want' instead of 'need.'

Did he need Nick to call him? Probably. Did he want him to? That was a question best left to the philosophers.

"If you want."

"All right. I'll give you a ring before I scoop ya up. Be ready, Greg."

"10-4."

———

Greg's body must have been in motion, because his surroundings were a complete blur. Light trails bounced in the background, dancing dots filling his entire line of vision. His haze was interrupted by a rough pair of hands, hands that started to travel up his body. Hands that seemed to be as curious as they were dominating, and soon, Greg could feel hot breathing along his neck.

"Mmm..."

The same hands made their way to his locks, gripping sections of blonde spikes like he was an uprooted vegetable. 

"Oh God, yes!"

Suddenly a tongue swiped his neck, leaving a path of destruction all the way down his back. Greg couldn't take it any more and turned around to see the mystery seductress—his eyes nearly shooting out of their sockets when he realized who he was looking at. Nick...or at least some fantasy cinematic version of him.

"FUCK—"

Greg's body snapped awake to the sounds of ringing. He looked around the dark room which was illuminated by his phone screen reading _5:30am_.

"Shit shit shit shit!"

He snatched his phone and smashed the answer button.

"Hello?"

"Good morning to you too."

That voice.

"Nick?" He rubbed his tired eyes a little too hard. "Sorry, I was just—"

"Waking up? I could tell." 

Greg could have sworn he heard a low chuckle from the other end, the kind sung only by sirens in a Greek tragedy.

"Not exactly a morning person."

"I know. You have just enough time to hop in the shower before I get there."

"Nick the convention doesn't start until seven. I think we can relax a little."

"I like getting there early. There's usually long lines getting your badge and all that, so I like to beat the crowd."

"It's a convention Nick. The whole place is a crowd."

"You know what I mean."

"Fine. I'm gonna hop in the shower and leave the door unlocked. In case your early bird ass gets here before I'm done."

"You sure that's safe?"

"There's nothing valuable here." Greg hadn't meant for that to sound so pathetic. "I mean, yeah it's safe. Just come over, 'kay? Sanders out."

With that he ended the call and swiftly ran to the bathroom.

That's exactly what he needed right now, a COLD SHOWER. -30 degrees Fahrenheit should do the trick. At least he could finish what he started, although he had no idea what his dream meant. He'd figure it out later; there were more important matters at hand. Literally.

———

"What's our first seminar?"

" _Pattern Cross - Examination of the Prosecution's Forensic Experts_."

"Sounds...intense." Greg mocked, sipping on the cup of coffee Nick had brought for him.

The CSI trainee had to give Nick points for not getting Starbucks; the brown cup was definitely from the hipster cafe down the street from his apartment.

"Brought your notepad?"

Greg's bulging eyes said it all.

"Think I saw swag bags by the registration table. They always include pens and notebooks in there."

Greg dug around in his pocket and pulled out something rectangular, showing it off to Nick.

"Don't need it."

"Did you bring extra batteries for that? The convention is all day, Greg."

The younger man immediately put away his voice recorder and headed towards registration again, putting on his best fake smile for the convention attendants. Once he collected his tacky tote bag filled with convention goodies, Greg walked back towards Nick who looked like he was a misplaced military sergeant. 

"Okay, ready."

Nick uncharacteristically ran a fast hand through Greg's hair, just like his dream, only it was much less sensual. 

"Not quite. You had...hairs sticking out."

Greg's ears were burning.

"I'm not a morning person. T-thanks."

Nick smiled and pointed towards auditorium hall G8.

———

Greg knew he should have been paying attention to the doctor on stage talking about the use of biomechanics in criminal cases, but he couldn't.

All he could think about was Nick, him, and a handful of hair. His thoughts were interrupted when he felt Nick nudge his shoulder, eyes darting towards the presentation.

The blonde nodded, taking out his notepad again and pretending to jot things down as if he was listening. If Nick had actually looked over, he'd see " _forensic biomechanics analysis_ " and "Nick Nick Nick" battling it out on the medium ruled lines in front of him.

Greg let out a deep sigh. It was going to be a long day.

———

"Gettin' some good notes, Greg?"

"Mmhmm." Came Greg's monotone answer.

"He was 23 when he ran our lab like a boss. If you ask me, he should be presenting at one of these things."

Greg's head picked up a little from hearing Nick brag about him, but the good mood faded immediately when he heard high pitched giggling again.

"Impressive. What about you?"

"Me? I'm just a hair and fiber guy from Texas."

The beautiful woman in front of Nick and Greg smiled, whisking her brown strands behind her ears at the statement.

"I knew it! I'm from Louisiana and I can always tell a Southern man by his accent. Finally someone I can relate to."

"Guilty."

They both shared a friendly laugh which made Greg squirm in his seat.

"Shoot, I could eat the north end of a south-bound polecat.* Food at these things aren't always the best, wanna get out of here and grab some real grub?" The woman asked, her attention clearly more focused on Nick than Greg.

Before Nick could answer, Greg tossed the plastic silverware into his bowl and got up.

"You kids have fun. I'm gonna check out ' _The Impact of Facial Recognition Software on Misidentification_.' We can meet up later, Nick."

As he left the table, Nick was confused as to why he felt a bit of tension coming from the younger man. Nonetheless he swallowed a lump and smiled at his new friend.

———

Grissom would _kill_ Greg if he saw what he was currently doing.

Laying down on a concrete block smoking a cigarette. _Outside_ the convention.

He didn't know why he was doing this, just felt left out again. As always. Greg liked to think he was an attractive man, though he was apparently no match for his chiseled companion. When it came to base attraction for mass audiences, Nick beat him by a mile. Greg could only slide into the "quirky but cute" category; not exactly anyone's preferred list.

The woman flirting with Nick was drop dead gorgeous. Tall, symmetrical face, long brown hair, and a charming personality to boot. She was a decorated professor from Louisiana, and the perfect type of woman for a man like Nick.

Why could Greg never date women like this? He thought he had some decent qualities to offer, but apparently he was still a dork to most people. Even in a convention full of dorks.

"You smoke?"

Greg almost fell off the block at the interruption.

"Huh?"

"I can smell it."

"Oh." He quickly wiped his lips with the back of his hand and dusted himself off. "Not often, just...nervous from the convention."

"Ah."

Nick swiped his hand in the air, signaling Greg to make room for him.

"How was lunch?"

"I don't know, you were there. How was it?"

"What?"

"I called and texted a few times. Didn't answer."

"Sorry, I didn't realize you had called."

Greg wasn't a liar, usually, but he didn't want to mention how he purposely dodged all of Nick's communications after running away from the table.

"It's okay. Not a fan of Dr. Williams?"

"She was fine. Just thought you two wanted some alone time."

"I"m here to learn about forensics Greg, not go on a blind date."

"Why not do both?"

Nick shot him a playful glare, taking something out of his pocket. Two tiny cola cans caught the sun's rays for a moment before Nick handed one to Greg.

"What is that?!"

"Cola."

"But why's it so small? Was there a demonstration on forensic shrink rays I missed? Damn, I miss all the cool stuff."

The older man's face lit up at Greg's outburst. Funny Greg was back.

"Guess they make mini versions. Thought you'd want some caffeine for the rest of your day, but didn't want to give you a whole new cup of coffee. This'll do, right?"

"Guess so. Thanks Nick, this is kind of cute."

"So are you."

Now he knew he was going crazy. There was no way Greg had just heard that come from Nick's mouth.

"Uh..."

Nick cleared his throat uncomfortably, his body shifting next to Greg's.

"So are you ready to go back? That's what I meant."

"Yeah, sure. Let's head back."

———

The car ride back to Greg's apartment was just as awkward and quiet as he thought it would be.

Both men were mentally exhausted from a long day of learning and socializing. Though they were technically extroverts, hoards of people had a way of turning them into instant introverts.

"How's that for a first convention?"

Greg looked up from his lap to see a subtle smile creep up on Nick's face.

"It was...good. Everything I imagined and more."

"Good. It's a nice little break, better catch 'em while you can."

He knew Nick was referring to how crazy being a CSI could be, and Greg really was thankful. Greg just had other things on his mind...

"You wanna grab dinner somewhere?"

Nick's face slowly turned towards Greg, his eyes never leaving the road.

"Yeah?"

"I-I mean you don't have to or anything. Just wanted to thank you for babysitting me all day."

"Honestly I'm so hungry I could eat a cat—"

" _What_?"

"Sorry, that came out wrong. I forgot what she said already, something about a north cat?"

Greg had to hide his smile, the kind your crush teases out of you in primary school.

"No cats, but there's plenty of delicious sea critters at Bob's."

"G—"

"Come on, I swear it's good! Don't let the name fool you."

"I believe you, I'm just not a big fan of seafood."

"You're from the South and you don't like seafood?!"

"I know right? My dad always thought I was a traitor on our fishing trips. My brothers could catch and skin a catfish in two seconds, and me? Just sittin' there with my sad little line catching nothing but a cold."

Greg burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter at the thought of a young Nicholas, string on a stick in tow.

"No way. I thought you were the Bear Grylls of your town."

"I mean I'm a big fan of the outdoors, just not fishing."

"Okay okay. I think I have some meat and veggies back at my place if...if you wanna just dine in at Casa De Sanders?"

"Sounds great."

———

Greg was relieved when his hand struck the frozen flank he had stored in his freezer a couple of weeks ago. He also pulled out the remainder of the asparagus and mushrooms that had found refuge in his fridge.

"Don't know exactly what I'll cook with these, but I'll whip up somethin'. Shouldn't take too long. Would you care for a glass of wine while you wait?"

"I'll take a beer."

"Fine Larry, getchu a cold one!" 

"Larry?"

"The Cable Guy. I don't know Nick, I'm a Liberal from California help me out here?"

Nick scoffed at Greg's pretentiousness as he headed towards the kitchen.

"Need any help?"

"Nah I'm good. Trust in my culinary skills, Nick. Feel free to grab whatever's in the fridge though."

Nick nodded and opened the door, a frown quickly forming on his chiseled face. Greg already knew exactly why.

"Hmm...do you have any _normal_ beers?"

"If you mean watered-down abominations, then no. I do have a nice craft lager in there that tastes like Shiner Bock though. By the way, isn't Shiner from Texas?"

"I'll take that. And yes, Shiner's from Texas. Really know your Texas trivia, huh?"

Greg blushed.

"Grab me one too, will ya?"

"Thought you were gonna sip on your wine with your pinky up."

"Hey I can cosplay as a civilian too."

"You're anything but."

He wasn't sure why, but Nick's last comment flustered the hell out of Greg.

"Uh...yeah. If you want you can turn on something. I don't have cable, but I have every streaming service in existence."

Nick wasn't surprised. He took out two beers from the fridge, assuming it was the right one from the dark coloration, and placed them on the counter. He looked around for a bottle opener but couldn't find one, so he picked up the lighter from Greg's catchall tray and popped the tops open.

"Here."

"I have a bottle opener, you know. It's on the fridge."

Nick blushed, seeing the precarious device posing as a magnet on the fridge door.

"Well maybe you should trust in my survival skills too, Greg."

If Greg squinted hard enough and closed his ears like those ' _see no evil monkeys_ ,' he could almost see the vague outlines of flirting. 

"I trust you." He cleared his throat. "So I was thinking a simple sauté over rice. Is that okay?"

"Wow. I didn't know you could cook, let alone use words like 'sauté.'"

"Ha. Ha. Ye of little faith. How do you think I survive?"

"On cup ramen and coffee?"

"Okay, that's true. But from time to time I whip it in the kitchen." Also, in the bedroom.

"We'll see about that."

"Oh yeah? You think you're a better cook than me?"

"Maybe. Guess you'll have to come over next time and find out."

Nick hadn't even finished his beer yet and he was already acting drunk.

"Mm...don't make promises you can't keep, Stokes."

Nick took a long swig of his beer and walked up directly behind Greg, his breath barely making contact with the hairs on his neck. 

"I never break a promise." 

Greg felt his entire body shake and almost lost control of the utensils in his hands.

"Y-you okay with a little bit of Worcestershire sauce for flavor?"

"Sounds good, G."

He was placated seeing Nick walk back towards the couch and sit down. The last thing he needed was a cooking calamity in the presence of Nick Stokes.

The rest of the evening was relatively uneventful. Nick watched a sports commentary show in the living room while Greg sautéed away in the kitchen. Greg quietly took out his finest china from the back of his cupboards, taking extra care to plate his food like he was presenting it to Gordon Ramsay himself.

"Mmm something smells good Greg. Is it ready?"

"Almost! Gimme a sec."

Greg felt stupid drizzling sauce on the steak like he was a real chef, but he couldn't dismiss the need to impress Nick either.

"Come on man, I'm dyin' here."

"Okay okay, it's done. Bone apple tea."

"Isn't it bon appétit?"

"Never mind." Greg didn't really feel like explaining the meme to Nick right now, not on an empty stomach.

Nick shrugged and ran towards the kitchen island where Greg had set them up. Everything actually looked pretty fancy, down to the decorative garnish on top of the sauté.

"This looks amazing Greg. Not sure I can beat this."

Greg beamed from ear to ear, his personal pride soaring higher than a fighter jet.

"Try some before you sing my praises." He was suddenly very nervous.

Nick grabbed his fork and threaded a huge piece of flank into his mouth, his eyes almost rolling to the back of his head when it stirred his taste buds.

"Damn."

"...Damn good or damn bad?"

"Damn."

He wiped his forehead with a dramatic ' _phew_ ' and finally dug into the dish himself. They enjoyed their dinner mostly in silence, with Greg making a few jokes in between bites. A couple more beers had disappeared from the fridge as well, resulting in Nick's voice climbing a few octaves. Greg didn't mind it though; he liked the cowboy rowdy.

"I'm glad you like the food."

"Hell yeah I liked it. Hey, how come we never did this before today?"

"Did what?"

"Dinner and shit. How long we known each other?"

"I don't know, like five years?" Five years, four months, sixteen hours, twenty-seven minutes, and ten seconds to be exact.

"Crazy."

"Technically we've had pizza before. At your place. So that counts as dinner I think?"

"That ain't no dinner." 

Nick's Southern drawl had come out with a vengeance after a few beers, and Greg had to bite his lips so he wouldn't lose it.

"It ain't?"

"Funny, Sanders."

"You done?" Greg asked politely, pointing to the nearly empty plate in front of Nick. 

Nick shook his head, grabbing him and Greg's plate to take to the sink instead. 

"You cooked. I'll clean up."

"Why Nick Stokes, ain’t you just the tomcat’s kitten?*"

Though a bit tipsy, Nick still narrowed his brows and turned his face questionably at Greg.

"What?"

"Sorry. I was trying out my Southern sayings but it seems like I just don't have it in me."

"Do you want it?"

"Want what?"

"Some Southern in you."

Now it was Greg's turn to look at Nick utterly confused. But the beers were flowing and so were his hormones.

"That depends. How am I gonna get it?"

A darkness clouded Nick's usual cheery disposition. _Was it anger? Disgust? Lust?_

"However you want it."

Okay, there had to be some kind of checks and balances in this situation. It was all fun and games until the desire could no longer be kept out of the retorts. Nick wasn't wasted by any means, but Greg was worried that the influence of alcohol would result in regret in the morning.

"Nick..."

"When you were talkin' about liquid latex that one time, did you say it because you were suggestin' somethin'? Or you just yankin' my chain?"

"Um..." There was definitely something Greg wanted to yank all right, and it wasn't a chain.

"Never mind. Sorry."

Nick went back to washing dishes, his expression growing more and more sour by the minute. Greg knew he had to do something creative to save the mood. He carefully walked up to Nick, stopping his body when he got close enough to put a gentle hand on his shoulder. Nick took a deep breath, turned his head, and placed a soft kiss on Greg's hand. Every molecule in Greg's body was bubbling, his eyes seeing nothing but a flash of white in front of him. Slowly turning off the water, Nick wiped his hands on a towel and placed both of Greg's arms around his waist. Greg was frozen.

"Can I?"

"Huh?"

"Kiss you?"

Greg smirked, wrapping his arms tighter around the flushed Texan.

"Next time, don't ask."

All pleasantries were tossed aside as Nick grabbed Greg's face and brought it to his in sheer aggression. Even though their lips were soft, the way they were mashing together made everything feel rough. Just how Greg liked it. Greg's arms started roaming the unfamiliar territory of Nick's back while the older man's fingers clutched strands of hair, making him moan into Nick's mouth uncontrollably. 

Nick yanked his hair harder, exposing Greg's pale neck for the taking. Greg was more than happy to oblige, tossing his head back like he was performing an exorcism. Soon Nick was licking and biting every crevice of his exposed neck, which if this was the animal kingdom, Greg would have already been dead. But Greg was okay with that, he would have died a thousand times just to experience this again. Nick's breath became heavy, an amalgamation of desperation and desire, and without realizing it he had picked up the slender man and nearly slammed him up against the wall.

Greg released a throaty moan, his legs wrapping around Nick's waist as if that's all they were ever designed to do. Nick immediately snapped out of his hedonic vigor, remembering that the CSI trainee had a battlefield of lesions on his back from the explosion.

"Oh my God I'm so sorry Greg."

"For what? Ugh, don't stop!"

"Your back..."

"Fuck it." Greg screamed, pulling up his shirt and tossing it on the floor.

"Greg..."

"Nick, that was ages ago. I'm a big boy."

He pulled Nick's face down, dominating those soft lips with equally combative kisses. Nick slowly got back into the rhythm, his hands possessively gliding over every scab and blemish on Greg's back. One of Greg's arms remained hooked on Nick's neck to retain balance while the other pulled at his shirt hem. Nick got the message as he wriggled out of his shirt, earning a gasp from the blonde. Even though he had seen Nick's body a few times in the showers or on a case, he had never been able to witness it in all its glory like he was able to now. His six pack had six packs.

"Damn..." Greg breathed.

"Damn good or damn bad?"

" _Damn_."

Nick carried them to the couch and laid on his back, allowing Greg to crawl on top of him hungrily. Greg straddled Nick as he plotted kisses down his body, curious hands playing with the belt keeping his jeans enclosed.

"Are you sure?" Nick breathed out between kisses.

"Are you?"

"Never been more sure about anything in my life."

Greg met Nick's lips in a kiss that was far more amorous and romantic compared to their previous interactions. His hands slid behind Nick's ears, massaging them lovingly as they shared a long, drawn-out embrace. The cherry on top of the cake was feeling Nick smile into the kiss, which made Greg's heart flutter. 

"Wanna take this to my room?"

"Mm?"

"I mean, I don't really care _where_ , just thought you'd be more comfortable in there."

"Sure. But all I really need is you."

**Author's Note:**

> * "I could eat the north end of a south-bound polecat" - Southern colloquialism for being hungry
> 
> * "Ain’t you just the tomcat’s kitten?" - Southern colloquialism for calling someone a big flirt/fast-talker


End file.
